winds esker                
  
                                          
 there was this place that for  two years 
 i  couldn't go to. regardless  how  much 
 discussed  with others, or  pointed  out 
 on  maps, i  could  not think of it when 
 alone.  i  would often  travel  past the 
 fork,  where a  right turn would  surely 
 take me there, but even then,  something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i  finally  got there,  after some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the   place  was  surreal.  an 
 esker, like a  needle-thin rift  out  in 
 the   lake,  but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned  in birch, willow,  bracken, and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the view  to  either  side. there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize  them. first off, they 
 were  much too close, as the lake should 
 stretch  for a hundred  meters  more  on 
 both sides.  but  now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost  reach  out  and touch them.  and 
 then,  when i realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were of  the right  lake. but this 
       lake is large, fractured, and      
 bipartite. like a pair of  lungs  carved 
 into  the granite, and with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood them as belonging many  miles 
                   away.                  
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,  the   treeline 
 above. was this what  you saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying  forward, on  the  very  tip of 
 the  esker,  i found the  ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss,  and  strange slabs  inserted 
 into  the slope  like  dams against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i could  see  across the 
 narrowed  lake my entire path to where i 
 sat:  from  the  stairwell  of my house, 
 through the  old  woods behind the  tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then back  under  it, 
 through  the  fancy  villas,  over   the 
 fields, and  then that right turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then the stairs  up  on  the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was  probably it. 
 hidden in  a grove,  there  were  stairs 
 much like the ones i  currently  sat on, 
 old and worn  down,  that  lead  you  up 
 onto  the esker. the point of entry. had 
 i  insted opted to walk the  path at its 
 foot, i'm  sure my  experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,  there  were   people  in 
 boats. i wondered,  could they even  see 
 me?  if i shouted,  would they  turn  to 
          stare right through me?